


Vignettes

by immistermercury



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Freddie's birthday, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Internalized Homophobia, Jim is 15, M/M, Sexuality Crisis, Sharing a Bed, Underage Drinking, but it's okay because they get through it, first I love you, fred is 14, freddie comes out to his family, nothing above a pg i promise they're small, the softest boys reall, they're at boarding school together, underage but they're both underage, very brief sickness, we love kash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-23 13:43:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19702549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immistermercury/pseuds/immistermercury
Summary: Nothing cleansed the thoughts from his mind, the simple ideas of holding hands and walking through London together and feeding each other from ridiculous ice creams on a rare day out. Nothing cleansed the idea of sharing his double bed in his new accommodation, waking up to see his face sleep-crumpled and gorgeous and being able to kiss the pillow marks.He could fantasise, he allowed himself. He just couldn’t act; that wasn’t normal.





	Vignettes

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a fun writer's block activity (hence the lack of updates - needed to work through it!) - you take the beginning and end ideas and you create a series of vignettes to get you from point a to point b. So we started with two Catholic school boys and worked through their crises until they became happy boys :)

The sun sunk slowly below the horizon, gilding the sky with graceful reds and pinks, golds highlighting and smoothing the ridges of the earth. One bird flew across the sky, a stark relief across the leftover light. The warmth of the day still clung to the edges of the night, to the hem of Freddie’s sweatshirt and Jim’s hoodie; the excitement of the night clung to the edges of Jim’s smile.

Jim sat on his hands as he glanced over the boy next to him; Freddie, at fourteen, sent his head into a whirl that didn’t quite settle right when he tried to think it through. Jim was older, more experienced - in theory - and he’d certainly had his fair share of girlfriends, while Freddie was so beautiful, so unblemished, so completely unaware of the effect he had on his friend.

“And so I was thinking-” Freddie took a toffee from the bag and stood up, darting amongst little potted plants to illustrate his story. Since Jim had shown him the rarely used roof garden, Freddie had insisted that every little piece of spare time they had together had to be spent up there. “When you move out to the apartments, I’m going to be really fucking lonely.”

“You have other friends.” Jim chuckled and lay back on the grass. “Why don’t you share a room with John? It’s only for a year.”

“A whole year!” Freddie replied petulantly. “Mama has said that she’s going to ask the headmaster if I can move out a year early.”

“You’ll be fifteen, Freddie.” Jim took in the sight of his shadow against the evening light. “Besides, we’ll still have classes together.”

“You’ll only be sixteen.” Freddie huffed. “I want to move into your house.”

“You can when you’re older.” Jim replied judiciously. In all reality, he was frightened to live in such close quarters with Freddie; the public nature of the dormitory kept them from ever getting too close to one another, inhibited their mutual tendency to be a little too affectionate to one another.

“I just-” Freddie suddenly went shyer, cheeks pinkening. “I’m so used to having you around, and it’ll be weird without you.” He admitted.

“That’s sweet.” Jim smiled. “It’s only for a year. You’re as good friends, if not better, with John and Roger. It’s one more year in the dormitories.”

“I know, but-” Freddie looked frustrated and shyer than ever as he glanced out over London’s skyline. “Do you ever think about boys?” He blurted out. “Like you do girls?”

“What?” Jim asked quickly, sitting upright. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I don’t. That’s a sin.” He tried to cover his blush with words of the orthodox religion they both knew so well. 

“Of course.” Freddie echoed, his voice a little more hollow. “Me neither, I mean, but I heard these boys talking, and I couldn’t believe that anyone would think like that. I mean- wanting to kiss other boys is just weird, right?” He lied through his teeth, trying to be convincing. 

“You heard the pastor.” Jim stood up quickly. “They’re freaks. They’re against the nature of God.”

“Freaks.” Freddie nodded quickly and turned away. “Yeah, I forgot the word he used. I’m just- it’s hot up here. I’m going for a shower.” He excused himself quickly.

Jim lay awake that evening, staring at the bunk above his, the one that Freddie slept in. He heard nothing but tossing and turning all night, and he wondered if maybe he’d said the wrong thing.

* * *

Freddie was forever sick in these English winters. This was his second winter at the boarding school, and his second stint of over a week in the infirmary; he suffered miserably with pneumonia this time. His mother was forever complaining about his weak chest, and Freddie himself sometimes worried sick about his chest if he wanted to become a singer - a secret he would never, ever, ever tell anyone, not even Jim.

The fluorescent lights were never switched off in the infirmary, and the days and nights blended together into one groggy haze of sleeplessness. As he lay awake, his thoughts often drifted to Jim, a subject strictly not allowed when he was sane and sober; with no one else around, in an uncomfortable bed, he was neither sane nor sober. For the first year of their friendship, Freddie had held onto the blind hope that the gentle touches to his hand, the mother-like protectiveness of him, the bootleg tea before bed, the very, very few times they’d shared a bed, could be a sign of something else.

He knew at his heart it was wrong, and he repented as best as he could, asked to be cleansed in the name of the saviour. But as he lay awake, he imagined what those soft lips would feel like against his own, what it could feel like to be held by someone bigger than him, someone wanting to protect him. He heard all the whispers about pornography in his year group, even seeing a few pages of it for himself, but nothing ever stayed in his mind as it did for the other boys.

He had considered seeing somebody, telling somebody that he was sick. He had wondered about the therapies he’d heard about on the news, wondered if there were pills that would make him normal. He wondered that if he acted now, before he acted on his foolish fantasies, he could stop himself from being damned for all eternity.

Nothing cleansed the thoughts from his mind, the simple ideas of holding hands and walking through London together and feeding each other from ridiculous ice creams on a rare day out. Nothing cleansed the idea of sharing his double bed in his new accommodation, waking up to see his face sleep-crumpled and gorgeous and being able to kiss the pillow marks.

He could fantasise, he allowed himself. He just couldn’t act; that wasn’t normal.

He woke himself up coughing, and pale green eyes met their counterpart. Jim’s hand carefully touched his own, always so chaste, nothing to be misinterpreted. “Jim.” He croaked, suddenly so aware that he was pale, he was sweaty, he was dirty and miserable and definitely not the vision that he wanted to be.

“Freddie.” Jim’s smile was delighted regardless. “How are you doing?”

“Better.” He shuffled into a semi-upright position and all his muscles protested. “You were right about the antibiotics.” He added, and Jim’s cheeks heated a little; he was such a protective mother-hen to Freddie, having adopted him for his own on Freddie’s first day, trembling and knees-knocking. He loved to know when his ideas were right, when Freddie was best off listening to him.

“Do you need anything?” He asked carefully. “Anything to eat or drink? Any painkillers?”

“No, thank you.” Freddie replied politely; he hated it when Jim acted motherly, because it almost felt as though he was caring for Freddie like some loving, doting boyfriend that he definitely wasn’t supposed to want. “How was your match?”

“It was cancelled because of the rain. It’s just awfully cold out today, not that you’d know in here.” Jim chuckled. “I put a load of your laundry on. Sweaters, pajamas, the like. I can bring you some clean things if you’d like.”

“Oh, darling!” Freddie chastised him. “You needn’t do anything of the like for me. I insist, Jim, I can look after myself.”

“I know you can.” Jim smiled. “But you’ve got pneumonia and I thought it would help you out.”

Freddie smiled reluctantly. “Thank you.” He said after a pause. “I wouldn’t mind some pajamas.”

* * *

Jim would sometimes watch Freddie when he wasn’t looking. He would watch the way he rocked his hips as he walked, such a tantalising tiny body tottering on platforms that made him look older and wiser than his fourteen years. He sometimes wondered what it would be like to touch the skin on his chest, whether it would be soft or rough; Freddie was partial to walking around shirtless, especially when they smuggled a bottle of vodka into the dormitory.

Freddie lay back against his chest; he was sat in between Jim’s legs as they all crowded in a circle around the bottle. He wondered whether he could feel him in the subtlest of ways, easy enough to pass off as drunken groping, whether he could touch his soft stomach and his tiny waist and maybe one of those thin, thin legs.

Freddie drank as the bottle was passed to him and he pressed his back to Jim’s chest, head lolling lazily against his collarbone. “I’m tired.” He smiled sleepily up at Jim and stretched out, accidentally bumping his nose along the way.

The way Freddie looked like that was all of Jim’s sins personified, every time he’d forgotten the Lord to his bodily needs and had to sulk in the confessional box the next morning. Jim wondered what it would be like to push him to the floor, to kiss him until his lips went red; he wondered if Freddie would push him off or if he’d pull him in ten times harder. His mind wandered to the noises he would make in bed, but Jim stopped himself quickly; he was a virgin, he’d never even been kissed, and here he was imagining the sex noises of his best friend.

Freddie would definitely be loud.

“That’s because you’re drunk.” Jim gathered arms around his waist and hauled him more upright, heart beating faster at the feeling of sharp bones and the small, flat body beneath his hands. Freddie was nothing like the girls he’d been with: he didn’t squish in places, he wasn’t soft in the same way; Jim could feel lean muscle beneath his fingers. “You’re always tired when you’re drunk.”

“Hm-” Freddie seemed to consider it as he cupped Jim’s cheek, cold rings pressing against his skin. “You know me too well.” He slurred, leaning up as though he was about to kiss him. 

Jim was aware of all the eyes on them and hastily rearranged how they were sitting so that Freddie didn’t have the chance to make a move. “It’s because we’re such good friends.” He said awkwardly.

“I love you.” Freddie snuggled against him and Jim’s cheeks heated; he cast around a glance which he hoped spoke for him, saying  _ God, what a mess this guy is!  _

“I love you too, Freddie, you’re my best friend.” He tried to diffuse the situation, his toes curling in his shoes. He longed for something, some miracle to take the attention away from them-

“I don’t mean it like that.” Freddie slurred and stood up on shaky legs. “I love you, Jim Hutton!” He held out his arms dramatically.

“Okay, Freddie, okay.” Jim wanted to melt out of his own skin as he stood up next to him. “Listen, let’s get you to sleep, okay? You can take my bunk, you aren’t getting up the ladder any time soon.”

“Don’t want to sleep.” Freddie cupped his cheeks again. “Want to-”

The entire room scarpered at the sound of a hand on the door, tucked into bed and sweet as angels. Jim shoved Freddie into his bed, pushed him up against the wall and got in himself, completely covering Freddie with his blanket. He started to protest, but Jim put a hand over his mouth. Someone kicked the bottle under a bed as the door opened, a beam of light revealing nothing but perfect Catholic boys tucked up in bed.  
  


* * *

“I-” Freddie cupped his mug so tightly, almost frightened that the porcelain would shatter between his fingers. “Listen, this has been so hard for me, and I think it’ll be hard for you, too.”

“Freddie.” Jer leaned across and carefully took her son’s hand. “It’ll be fine, darling, no matter what it is.”

“I just-” Freddie eyes filled with tears as he glanced downwards. He couldn’t face being rejected. “I think I like other men. I think- I think I’m-” He hated the word, and he wanted to swallow it back down to the depths of hell from whence it came. “I think I’m gay.”

“I thought it was going to be something serious.” Kash said through a mouthful of cereal. At Jer’s indignant look, she held her hands up in defence. “What? My brother wants to fuck other men, I don’t care. As long as he’s happy.”

“Kashmira!” Bomi squeezed Freddie’s hand as he looked at her. “I won’t have language like that in this household.”

“Sorry, Dad.” She rolled her eyes. “My brother wants to make love to other men. Is that better?”

“Thank you for telling us, Freddie.” Bomi smiled encouragingly, ignoring Kash entirely. “We know it must be hard for you. We love you, darling, and we don’t mind.”

Jer wrapped him up in a hug and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “It doesn’t matter to us at all, my darling boy.” She promised. “You’re still my son.”  
  


* * *

It was late at night and Freddie had gone home for the weekend, leaving Jim suddenly aimless. They had little routines together, chores shared for the sake of getting them done and getting as much free time as possible. Usually they’d go out, go to Hyde Park or Leicester Square or Covent Garden to explore the world; sometimes Jim would buy Freddie dinner, or Freddie would buy Jim dinner, and they’d sneak in far too late at night.

Jim was a little tipsy on the bottle of white wine he’d been sharing with a few friends as they lay out in the grounds. “Do you think it’s wrong to be gay?” He asked into the silence, his stomach turning violently with anxiety at the replies.

“Depends on who you believe.” Eric shrugged and drank from the bottle. “I don’t think it makes any difference.”

“It’s a sin, Eric.” Ed replied. “Surely that matters?”

“Nah.” Eric grinned. “I don’t believe any of that heaven and hell and carnal sin shit. Do what makes you happy, you know?”

Ed lit a cigarette and thought about it for a second. “I hadn’t thought about it like that.” He acquiesced. “I guess if God wants you to be happy, and being gay makes you happy, then that must be acceptable.”

“I think I might be.” Jim blurted out and then took another, longer drink. “Gay, I mean.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Steven grinned over at him. “You don’t have to label yourself. You could be bi, I mean, if you like girls too.”

“I don’t know if I like girls.” Jim lit his own cigarette off the end of Ed’s and took a long, slow drag. “Not in the same way as guys, I mean. I can’t-” His cheeks flushed scarlet. “I can’t imagine having sex with them? The idea creeps me out a bit.”

“You are fifteen. You might just not be ready yet. Some people don’t have sex until they’re like nineteen or twenty.” Eric shrugged.

“Experiment.” Steven leaned forward. “Go out and kiss a guy and see if you like. Try Freddie, I’ve heard all kinds of rumours about him.”

“I couldn’t kiss Freddie!” Jim spluttered. “Absolutely not! That’s like suicide for our friendship.”

“What if it leads to something else, though?” Ed grinned and lay back on the grass. “God, imagining kissing Freddie is weird. Those teeth-”

“I’m done here.” Jim stood up quickly. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

* * *

“This is a nice place.” Freddie conceded, looking around the big room that Jim got all to himself. It had its own fireplace, a big bay window, even a double bed; it was the antithesis of the dormitory with all its privacy and space. As the boys progressed through the school, they moved from onsite dormitories to offsite houses, giving them more space to be independent as they grew up. Jim was sixteen now, and Freddie would turn fifteen the week afterwards; he didn’t like to think about his birthday, because he knew he’d spend it alone that year.

He’d sneaked a glance at Jim’s calendar, and he had a house party that day. There was no indication that he’d remembered Freddie’s birthday, and he was too shy to mention it.

“It’s so nice.” Jim smiled. “I’m thinking I might get a few plants to dot around, freshen it up a bit. It’ll be nice to have a desk of my own.”

“Yeah.” Freddie replied quietly. Most of his friends were in the year above him, and he hated the fact that they were all moving out; from the end of the school day until he went to bed was about to become one big, lonely spiral again. “Maybe put some flowers on your desk?” He suggested weakly.

“That’s a great idea!” Jim enthused and glanced around at his room. ‘Maybe next year you could have the room next door.”

Freddie stomach twisted painfully as the idea of the year stretched out in front of him. “Maybe.” He replied quietly.

* * *

He picked at his food, the leftovers from the canteen, sat miserably alone. He had been absolutely right, the year was going to be a disaster: it was September the fourth, the day before his birthday, and he didn’t even have friends to eat dinner with anymore. He’d seen Jim briefly that day, all dressed up and excited for some senior event happening that night; he felt like a completely new person.

Freddie felt as though he’d lost his best friend.

He pushed the pasta around his plate, decidedly not hungry; tomorrow would be exactly the same as today, which was identical to the day before that. He’d get a card from the school itself, maybe a bar of chocolate to share in the dormitory, and then he’d be forgotten about for the rest of the day.

He looked up quickly as someone sat beside him; his heart jumped when he saw it was Jim. “What the hell are you doing here?” He blurted out, surprisingly defensive.

“Thought I’d come and see you. Cooking for yourself every day is an absolute ball-ache.” Jim smiled, brandishing a plate of something lamb-like that Freddie’s father would definitely kill him for eating. “Besides, I got a bit sick of the guys.”

He wouldn’t mention that they’d been incessantly asking Jim if his teeth clashed with Freddie’s when they kissed; he wouldn’t mention that they’d been making obscene comments about his mouth and his voice and all that room in his throat. It made him too uncomfortable to remember them. 

“Thought it was all new and exciting for you.” Freddie’s mumble was a little mournful as though he were feeling sorry for himself. “Living your best life.”

“I missed you.” Jim admitted. “Just- just the stupid little things. Eating dinner, guarding the showers, playing some ridiculous game or studying together.”

Freddie couldn’t deny that his heart felt a little lighter. “It’s been three days.” His voice was almost teasing. “And we had biology together this morning.”

“It’s not the same.” Jim wanted to give in to the voice in his heart that told him to hug Freddie close. “I really missed you, Fred. And I couldn’t- I didn’t want you to be sad the day before your birthday.”

Freddie looked up quickly. “You remembered?” He asked quietly.

“Of course I remembered! My best friend turns fifteen tomorrow.” Jim smiled and wrapped an arm around Freddie’s waist, succumbing to the desire to hold that little body close. “So I thought, you, me, my room and a cheap bottle of prosecco. Maybe some records. And maybe I bought you a present.”

Freddie’s smile was completely elated and gorgeous and fuck, Jim was definitely in love. “I can’t sneak back in if I’m drunk. You know what I’m like, I’m too loud.”

“I sorted that.” Jim squeezed him lightly. “Remember what you were saying about moving out early? About asking for permission?”

“They said I couldn’t because I’m too young to responsibly have my own space and be cooking my own food and regulating my own time.” Freddie sighed, suddenly disheartened again.

“I researched it.” Jim said quietly. “And if you have an older roommate, then that’s okay. You still have a degree of accountability to someone else who’s responsible for you.”

“What are you saying?” Freddie asked quickly. “Do you mean-”

“Move in with me.” Jim smiled. “Come and be my roommate.”

“Yes!” Freddie squealed and threw his arms around Jim’s neck. Jim didn’t even mind the scene he was making; it was worth anything to make him smile. The days, the evenings, had felt a little too empty without Freddie’s smile.

* * *

His room looked more alive with the possessions of another person in; Freddie’s artwork stood against the walls, splashing the little room with colour and passion. Even better though was the warmth of Freddie under one arm as they lay together on the bed, the sound of his laugh as they sipped prosecco and told ridiculous stories. 

Freddie was so happy; he wore a new, warm sweater that Jim had gotten him, he was drinking sparkles and suddenly he felt as though he was going to have the best birthday ever. “Freddie?” Jim asked, glancing down at that happy smile, his heart beating faster and faster.

“Yes?” He asked sweetly, resting his head on Jim’s shoulder. “What is it?”

“Can I kiss you?” Jim blurted out.

“What?” Freddie sat up a little. “Do you mean- why?” He stuttered, cheeks turning pink.

“I think I might be gay.” He said nervously. “And everyone says to experiment and try kissing boys but I don’t want to kiss any random boys. The only person I want to kiss is you.”

Freddie’s mouth was a little agape and Jim ached to lean in and kiss him properly. It was like every one of Freddie’s dreams, but this was so real. “Yes.” Freddie replied immediately. “Yes- yes, please.” He said shyly.

Jim cupped his cheek and leaned forward until their lips almost touched. “Sure?” He checked. “I don’t want to ruin anything or make it awkward-”

He was cut off as Freddie pressed their lips together, gentle yet firm, so sweet and so chaste. His lips were soft, velvet-soft, and so comfortingly warm; all the tension melted from Jim’s shoulders. He pulled away momentarily, checking Freddie’s face for any sign of discomfort, and when he got nothing but happiness he leaned in and kissed him again.

Freddie shuffled into his lap, wrapping his arms around Jim’s neck as he started to kiss him a little deeper, put more effort in. This, Jim considered, was an open invitation to place his hands on that little body, to let himself feel bones and muscles.

His heart was beating so quickly, but he was completely sure that he enjoyed this. The feeling of the tiny waist, the flat and firm body beneath his hands, the knowledge that it was another man’s lips against his own- everything sent him into a cycle of excitement and love and maybe this, all along, was why he’d felt so protective of Freddie.

Freddie started to laugh against his lips as they kissed. Being kissed, being loved, felt so good; another man wanted to kiss him, didn’t mind that he was gay. Freddie had never been so sure of his sexuality in his whole life. With those big hands on his little body, holding him so securely, he couldn’t imagine being kissed in any other way.

“That was beautiful.” Freddie whispered when they pulled away. “I’ve never been kissed before.”

“Me neither.” Jim smiled. “I- thank you so much, Freddie.”

Freddie smiled shyly; his cheeks were rosy with happiness. “What- what does this mean?” He asked quietly. “If I liked it so much?”

“You’re gay, Freddie.” Jim smiled and cupped his cheek. “And it’s okay to be.”

Freddie giggled. “I already know that.” He said softly. “I told my parents. I more meant - I liked it so much with you.”

Jim pulled him in a little closer. “I- I really like you, Freddie.” He said shyly. “If you wanted to, we- we could-”

“Yes.” Freddie said immediately, already knowing what he was suggesting. “Oh my God, darling, yes, please-”

* * *

Jim held his hand all throughout their English class, occasionally murmuring the meanings of new words to Freddie; he was still learning, getting his English up to the best standard, and Jim didn’t like the idea of leaving him behind. Their morning had been so good so far; Freddie had woken up to breakfast in bed, presents from all Jim’s and his friends, and he’d gotten to walk to his classes with his hand in Jim’s.

“I’ve got one more present for you.” Jim gently squeezed his hand and smiled as they walked through the grounds in their break. “It’s a bit silly, really, but it’s in my pigeon hole. I had to send for it.”

“Let’s go!” Freddie said excitedly. 

Jim pulled him into the little room and looked through all the holes unti he found his own; inside were two little packages that he handed over to Freddie. “I hope they’re okay.” He smiled.

Freddie tore open the wrapping quickly, gasping when he saw what was inside. “You got me a proper camera!”

Ever since he’d gotten his first little disposable camera, Freddie had incessantly taken photos of everything that made him happy. “I thought that we could use some of the prints to decorate our room, seeing as it’s a bit bare at the moment.” Jim suggested, smiling shyly. “We could make a collage of our time together.”

Freddie nodded eagerly. “Wait!” He said excitedly, loading up the film quickly. “Smile.”

Jim laughed and smiled for the camera as Freddie took the photo. “Thank you so much!” Freddie leaned up and kissed Jim’s cheek lightly. “This is the best birthday ever.”

* * *

Jim had helped Freddie pull his hair back into a bun that morning, and Jim couldn’t resist glancing at the way small pieces were falling out and curling around his face as he chewed on the end of his pen. He was taking a lot of his exams a year early, and so he was having to study seriously, no matter how much it hurt his brain.

Jim was a very conventional student; pages of black and white notes, scratched out equations and practice questions all bunched up together until he could do almost anything. Freddie, though; Freddie couldn’t study without at least a thousand different colours of highlighter, until he’d painted everything all the colours under the sun. He’d explained the system to Jim, but Jim didn’t understand - he’d never dream of Freddie doing it any differently.

They sat shoulder-to-shoulder in the library; Freddie would sometimes loll his head onto Jim’s shoulder and close his eyes when his headache got too bad. In turn, Jim would remind to drink periodically through little gestures, little notes or little smiles, lest he got too dehydrated. 

“I don’t get it.” Freddie huffed after at least half an hour of staring at certain problems. “Help?” He asked hopefully, glancing over at his boyfriend.

“What’s the question?” Jim glanced over at his page, hoping he’d be able to help.

“A stupid solve for x problem. Six over seven multiplied by x equals forty.” Freddie took a quick drink and glanced back at the problem.

“Divide both sides by six over seven.” Jim kissed his temple. 

“How?” Freddie huffed, clearly losing his patience.

“Turn forty into a fraction and then multiply by the reciprocal of six over seven.” Jim chuckled as Freddie’s eyes went wide.

“I’ve got it!” He said excitedly. “So you multiply those and then you simplify!”

“You got it, sweetheart.” Jim took Freddie’s hand and squeezed it lightly. “You’ve got this.”

Jim wrote him a little note on a post-it note later that day, a simple “I love you” with a small heart, but he didn’t miss the way Freddie’s cheeks flushed scarlet and he couldn’t miss the way Freddie’s lips collided with his own.

* * *

Freddie’s hand was tight in his as they stood outside the exam hall together; Freddie was shaking. “You’ll be okay.” Jim promised; it helped soothe his own worries, to focus on someone else. “Just breathe, sweetheart.”

Freddie glanced up at him and smiled nervously. “I love you.” He blurted out, biting his lip afterwards. 

Jim smiled and kissed him softly as the doors opened. “I love you too, darling.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, drop a comment below if you enjoyed - hopefully regular updates will now be resuming!


End file.
